


Celine Dion Or Bust (is Not the Name of Santiago's Sex Tape)

by Missy



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Can be read as pre-slash, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Music, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosa wasn't planning on going to her family reunion, but Amy WAS kind enough to offer her a ride....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celine Dion Or Bust (is Not the Name of Santiago's Sex Tape)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



The trip is Amy’s idea. Rosa would be happy enough just to do her job, get back to her apartment and occasionally pretend to tolerate her friends. She’d be happy to throw up the same divider between what she does for the 99 and what she does when she closes the door of her apartment between herself and her family. 

 

But if it’s Amy’s idea, then it’s Rosa’s fault. She’s the one who made the mistake of engaging in small talk with Amy about their weekend plans. And Amy’s eyes had lit up when Rosa mentions sending a basket of food down to Florida for the Diaz Family Reunion in Tampa. She was planning on taking a week off, seeing Disney World at last – what a coincidence. Did she need anyone to drive her?

 

No. Because she wasn’t going. There was no way in hell she was about to show up alone in the heart of swamp country with no money, no more of what her great-uncle would call a “decent prospect” and absolutely no plans for the future other than simply surviving, having a good beer and a warm steak at the end of the day. She’s just not one of them - not a potato sack/chicken mole/gossip person. But Amy’s absolutely sure they’ll have a fine time, and when she offers to pay for the gas Rosa just shrugs and goes with it. So they pile into Amy’s fancy new car with too many suitcases and a bunch of promises and take off one Friday afternoon. 

 

Amy’s mapped every inch of the trip out from their departure to their arrival. She’s patched in some rest time, some time to eat, and ‘enough time to take some goofy selfies in Kentucky’, though as far as Rosa knows there’s nothing really goofy about the state. For the first few hours it’s fine; at heart, Rosa knows, the fact that Amy even bothered to involve herself in this ridiculous mess means that she should be respected. By Rosa’s definition, that means grunting when Amy asks if she wants to have ‘Smiley the Clown’ pancakes at Polly’s Hurricane Kitchen and not punching herself in the face when Amy starts humming ‘Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows” as she digs into them. It's a miracle indeed that Rosa doesn’t manage to get truly upset until they clear Virginia. 

 

That’s when Amy puts the Celine Dion on.

 

Rosa doesn’t really have any special opinions about the Canadian singer; she exists as a mild annoyance somewhere at the back of Rosa’s memory except for one crystal clear rememberence. Someone played ‘My Heart Will Go On’ at her confirmation, and as much as she kind of hates her family it brings back pleasant memories. She got her switchblade that day. Good memories.

 

But then Amy plays it again, and again – ten times as they coast down the highway. They're fifty miles from the Tennessee border when Amy reaches for the tape deck and Rosa’s leather-gloved hand encircles her wrist, firmly.

“If you play that freaking song one more time, my sidearm is gonna ‘accidentally’ discharge’ into this cd changer.”

“Okay!” Amy’s been sniffling her way through each repetition of the song, and as she blots away at her eyes with the back of her sleeve she adds, “you don’t have to be a party pooper.” Amy forces a grin, and Rosa withdraws her hand but kept right on glaring, sniffling. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“I’m not crying, my eyeballs are sweating,” Rosa grits out. She forces herself to think of Die Hard, of RoboCop, until the emotions are quelled. 

“It’s all right…not that you really were crying,” Amy reveals. “Everybody cries. And that's the freaking theme from Titanic – it’s like the musical version of onions.”

“It makes you fart?”

Amy crinkles her nose. “Noooo, and please try not to sound like Jake, you’re freaking me out.”

“Whatever.” They pull toward a toll road and Rosa stops to fish out some pocket change. “Don’t you have a Titanic story?” Amy asks. Rosa grunts. “When I was fourteen I saw that movie twenty times. I kept thinking that maybe next time those kids wouldn’t die and Rose would save Jack.”

“Did you see Back to the Future one too many times as a kid, too?” 

Amy frowns. “The song has a lot of memories for me, that’s all.”

“And for me too. Kind of,” admitted Rosa. Which was as close as she dared to come to being vulnerable around Amy.

Amy grinned. “I’ve still got a whole big bag of gorp in my pocket, and you can have some. IF you want it.”

“I’m not hungry,” she says. Then, as if in contradiction, “what’s gorp?”

“Weren’t you ever a Girl Scout?” asks Amy, as if the very idea were unthinkable.

“Beat up one once,” she says. 

Amy frowns. “It’s raisins, peanuts, granola and M&Ms.”

“Oh,” says Rosa. “It’s trail mix.”

“No, it’s Gorp,” says Amy, thrusting a plastic bag in Rosa’s direction. “Here, try a little.”

Rosa’s gaze turns back toward the road. They’re several miles up the road before she dips her hand in and takes a mouthful. “Nice trail mix,” she says, after her taste.

Amy frowns. “Next time I’m bringing snowman poop.”

“There’s never going to be a next time,” Rosa says.

“You think that now, but we haven’t played the license plate game yet,” says Amy.

By the time they manage to find an Alabama and an Arkansas right in a row Rosa decides she’s kind of having fun. Almost. And after they stop off for some fudge and ribs she’s pretty sure she is. She may or may not be smiling in the picture they take by Clarkson Falls before getting back on the road for a couple more hours of driving. They’re two days from their boring destinations and she’s considering taking a detour, skipping the whole thing, feeding her special for-the-reunion fudge to a goat.

Then Amy falls asleep as dusk falls, and her head slumps toward Rosa’s shoulder. A snore rattles its way from her sinuses, and her eyelids twitch in Rosa’s peripheral vision. 

Rosa doesn’t move it.

It’s a sign of affection. One that she can’t elaborate on yet, but a sign of acceptance and fondness all the same.

****

The End


End file.
